After Decades and Despair
by AMirroredImage
Summary: After years of waiting for his king's return, it was only a matter of time before Merlin began to fade. When Arthur finally reappears, is it too late? Modern reincarnation. Oneshot. Based off of a picture I saw on the Internet.


**After Decades and Despair** **  
**

The original picture was one that I found on the internet, and contained the caption:

 _Modern Merlin AU: Arthur finds Merlin but Merlin, who is convinced Arthur isn't real after hundreds of years of waiting, wont let him in._

And with that plot bunny, I was inspired. So, here you go!

...And for those of you waiting for the sequel to **Of Enemies and Allies** —it's coming very soon, I swear!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin

* * *

" _And with the cataclysm raining down,  
Insides crying, 'Save me now!'  
You were there, impossibly alone."_

" _Iridescent" -Linkin Park_

* * *

Arthur pounded his fists against the wooden door, unwilling to lose his friend now that he was so close.

It had been a strange feeling to suddenly wake up beside a lake with memories of long ago, but with a totally different world before him. He had expected Merlin to be waiting there, walking by the water—as was his century-old daily custom, Arthur knew—but his former manservant did not appear.

Arthur had watched him through the years from his spot on the Isle; a bystander, unable to help and comfort his friend. Merlin had held up pretty well over the passing decades, but a man could only take so much before hope dwindled. Merlin had tried—he had tried very hard to always be himself, as Arthur had asked as his final wish—but the centuries had not been kind to the warlock.

After Camelot and all of his friends had long passed away, Merlin devoted his life to helping people—traveling the world, learning new cultures, and using his gift of medicine and magic to heal. He taught at universities for a while, in another age he acted as a doctor, and yet another as a scientist, working alongside some of Europe's brightest minds. But in the last few decades, after surviving various battles, and two World Wars, Merlin had finally realized how tired he felt… and succumbed to it. He slowly lost that innocent nature, unerring goodness, and eternal hope.

Arthur had watched with growing worry as Merlin wasted away on his daily walk along the Lake. He became solemn, and his eyes lost the spark of life they had held for so long. He started making poor decisions, trying to drown his sorrows in the decades' forms of release: alcohol and drugs.

The disheartened warlock had truly lost the will to live.

He had convinced himself that his lifetime in Camelot—with dragons and knights and, most importantly, _his king_ —was nothing more than a dream.

And through every heartbreaking moment of it, the former king could only sit by and watch.

Until, finally, he was sent back.

The Once and Future King was once again needed—needed by a warlock, the very essence of magic—who had lost the will to live.

But Merlin had broken his vigil and had not been there to greet him. Arthur arrived at the edge of the Lake, with no banter, blue eyes, or lopsided grin to welcome him back.

For the first time in 1500 years, Merlin was not at the Lake.

Horror swept through the once-king at the implication. He had not arrived, waiting so long for this moment, only to be too late and lose his friend.

So that's how Arthur found himself rushing through the city, following the pull of his heart and his knowledge of where the warlock lived. He ignored the new world around him, with its strange rolling machines, glass walls, and loud noises. All that mattered at the moment was Merlin.

Finding the nondescript building, Arthur vaulted up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste. The strange material that now clothed him was soft—drastically different than the chainmail and leather wear of his own day—as were the shoes cushioning the footfalls of the harried warrior.

Suddenly, he arrived at the plain wooden door, scratched and dented with use and age. He reached out with a tentative hand, suddenly afraid of coming face to face with his manservant, and afraid of what he might find.

"Hello?" He called, knocking on the door.

He heard scuffling from the other side of the door, before it opened, revealing a gaunt-faced young man. His eyes were sunken in and devoid of light, and his high cheekbones and delicate lips were marred with bruises and cuts.

Arthur gasped at the sight, finally close enough to see the true brokenness that had taken hold of his friend.

He frowned with concern, whispering his soul-brother's name with a soft tone, "Merlin?"

The warlock in question tensed, a sharp intake of breath coming from his parched and broken lips. After so many years of waiting, and his recent downward spiral, the warlock had convinced himself that the man before him had never existed. It was far too painful to think of his past, and the people he has so cared about.

It had been better to forget them.

But now, standing at his door, was the Once and Future King, his Arthur, his best friend, the other side of his coin of Destiny.

 _It's the drugs_ , he thought with despair, _you're hallucinating._

With a glance, as if he dared to hope for a moment, Merlin looked at Arthur with a wistful, yet tortured smile on his face, "you're _not real_ ," he whispered brokenly. With a slow shake of his head, the warlock shut the door behind him.

Arthur stood there, shocked by what had just occurred. He had finally returned, and yet Merlin didn't believe it.

The stubborn king would have none of that.

"Merlin, you giant girl, let me in!" He shouted at the door.

"Who are you?!" The broken shout came from the other side in response, the warlock's voice cracking in despair.

"It's me," there wasn't any other way to say it, "Arthur Pendragon."

The returned king stood close to the paint-chipped door with baited breath, waiting for Merlin's answer.

"He is dead." The words were spoken flatly, and perhaps, with a bitter undertone that had been built up over the last few centuries, "My king is dead. He has been dead for years!"

The door did little to muffle the pain seeping through the broken man's exclamation, and Arthur hastened to add more assurances to his presence, "No, Merlin! I came back, I'm real!" He faltered, searching for something else that he could say, something else to comfort his warlock. Then, it clicked, and he added softly, "I came back for you. You needed me, and I came."

Arthur leaned his head against the pealing wooden surface, wishing he could step through the barrier and embrace his hurting friend.

After a few moments there was a whisper from Merlin, but it was too quiet to be heard through the door. Reigning in his anxious frustration, Arthur took a deep breath, and let it out in a stuttering exhale.

"Just… open the door, Merlin," and then, as if directed from another time—another place in which the warlock Emrys and the Once and Future King were two sides of the same coin, their entities intertwined by fate and kinship, forming a bond stronger than blood brothers—Arthur gave a pleading sigh, "…āblissian, mīn brōþor."*

Silence reigned in the corridor for the minutes Arthur waited for a response, the faulty wiring of the florescent bulbs causing the lights above to blink in and out, just like the king's thin grasp on hope.

Finally, there was movement on the other side of the door, and the handle twisted.

Arthur's breath caught in his lungs, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the idea of reuniting with his brother, making him smile again as he hadn't in so many years.

The Once and Future King stepped away from the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fists while the dilapidated barrier was opened again, no longer separating the king from his warlock.

"Merlin."

He waited, staring into the dull, lifeless eyes of a man he once knew so well—someone who had always been full of light and life.

A spark flashed in those cloudy blue eyes, then, a glimmer of what Arthur remembered.

Recognition was next.

Then the return of centuries of hope, cautious, but quickly flowing through Merlin's irises and illuminating his pale and drawn face.

"Aa-r… Arthur?" Merlin whispered, "is it true? After all this time?"

There was nothing Arthur could say that would be able to explain and answer all of the questions found in between the warlock's words, and with his own voice caught in his throat, there was really only one other option for the king.

Slowly, as if not to startle the wispy, faded sorcerer before him, Arthur stepped forward with arms outstretched. Merlin's brightening, watery eyes followed the movement, but he remained silent while his cracked lips started to tremble.

Arthur embraced his long-alone friend, wishing he could dash away all the years of pain and isolation that the warlock had gone through while he had waited for him.

He held on tight, rubbing small circles into the warlock's back when he started to shake with the force of his sobs, the release of centuries of emotion.

"I'm here for you Merlin, you won't be alone again. I promise you that, old friend."

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AN:

*Please, my brother.

So, what did you think? Let me know!

Until next time,

Mirror


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